sound as if you don’t approve.”
Alex shrugged, the fabric of his T-shirt clinging to a broad, muscular chest. “I’m not sure how the American personality will translate in Alma. The older people still remember days of pomp and circumstance. A laid-back monarchy may be hard to swallow.”
“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”
“No.” He grimaced. “But it’s the assignment we’ve been given. If we’re in pursuit of the ‘good old days,’ then the monarchy is necessary for our people to feel as if life has finally returned to normal.”
“Better the devil you know?”
Alex chuckled, his face lightening. “Something like that. I’d better get moving. See you at ten.”
As he walked away, Maria allowed herself to track his progress. He moved with a rangy masculine gait that encompassed determination and impatience. She wondered if he ever truly relaxed.
Down on the sand, she selected a lounger and spread her towel. At this hour, the sun worshippers were few and far between. A handful of joggers. Several people walking their dogs.
She had just picked up her paperback novel when a shadow fell over her left arm. Shading her eyes with one hand, she looked up. “Gabriel. What are you doing here? I wouldn’t have pegged you for an early riser.”
He waited for her to move her legs to one side and then settled on the end of the chaise. “I’m not,” he said, yawning. “Just now going to bed.”
“Ah.”
He shook his head with a wry grin. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I have a weekly poker game with some buddies.”
“Did you win?”
“I always win.”
Despite his reputation, she couldn’t help liking the black sheep Montoro. He seemed very comfortable in his own skin, and that was a trait she admired. “Where do you live?” she asked.
“I have a condo here on the beach. But our family has a compound at Coral Gables. You should let me take you there. It’s quite fabulous. You’d like it, I think...”
“I’m here to work,” she said, smiling to soften the blow. “But thank you.”
“If it’s your stick-up-his-butt boss you’re worried about, I’ll invite him along, as well.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say. Alex is a wonderful man. And he cares deeply about his country. I admire him very much.”
“Does he know about your...devotion?”
The pause before the last word was pointed. She felt her face flush. “We’re colleagues, nothing more.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I’m uncomfortable with this subject,” she said, wincing inwardly at how prissy she sounded.
Gabriel waved a hand. “Fine. My apologies.” He yawned again. “I need some shut-eye. Don’t stay out too long and get burned, pretty Maria.”
“Why are people so interested in giving me advice? I’m a grown woman, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Gabriel stood and stretched, his shoulders blocking out the sun. “I noticed,” he said, the grin turning roguish. “But I know a lost cause when I see one. You’re too nice a woman for the likes of me.”
“I think I’ve been insulted.”
“Not at all,” he protested. “It’s just that I don’t have a great track record with sweet young things. Someone always gets a heart broken.”
“Do you ever take life seriously?”
He glanced back at her as he prepared to walk away. “Not if I can help it, Maria. Not if I can help it.”
* * *
An hour later she gathered her things and prepared to return to the hotel. She had just enough time to clean up and make it to Alex’s suite for their meeting. They were being joined by Jean Claude, the attorney overseeing preparation of the legal documents for the restoration of the constitutional monarchy.
Maria was glad to see the lawyer for more reasons than one. He was good at what he did, but even more importantly, today he was a buffer between Alex and her. The growing awareness she had of Alex’s masculinity would have to be stamped out.
For two solid hours the three of them wrangled over language and legal points. Lunch was delivered from the hotel restaurant at noon. In forty-five minutes they were at it again. From the beginning, Maria had been awestruck by the historical importance of the documents they were drafting. Now, though she still recognized the critical nature of the work, being cooped up in a small room for hours on end meant she was more than ready to call it quits when Alex finally indicated they were done.
“We can’t finish everything in a day or even this week. But we’ve made a dent in it.”
Jean Claude nodded. “When will we show the Montoros a draft?”
“Not until we have some assurance they plan to accept the offer from Alma,” Alex said. “If they turn us down, we’ll have to scrap everything and come up with plan B.”
Maria groaned. “All this work for nothing? Please don’t even hint at it. It’s a dreadful thought.”
Jean Claude capped his expensive pen and tucked papers into his sleek briefcase. He was in his midthirties, good-looking in a quiet, unflashy way and utterly trustworthy. Which was why he had been chosen for his current position. “I believe we must think positively. The Montoros are surely aware of their family’s deep history with the country of their origin. Despite their love of the United States, blood ties will win out.”
Alex ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the thick dark strands. “Let’s hope you’re right.”
As the door closed behind Jean Claude, silence fell heavy and awkward. Maria stood, her knee bumping the leg of the table. Wincing, she picked up her things and sidled toward the exit. “Same time in the morning?” she asked, trying for a clean getaway.
Alex stopped her with nothing more than an upraised hand. “Tomorrow is Saturday. The entire delegation has been given instructions to enjoy some time off. We’ll reconvene on Monday.”
Maria raised an eyebrow. “Can we afford the delay?”
“Any deadlines we come up with are artificial at best. If we’re to convince the Montoros of our sincerity and our pragmatism, we can’t appear too desperate. It’s Miami, Maria. Sun, sand, shopping.”
“It’s like I don’t even recognize you,” she teased.
The twist of his lips was self-mocking. “I do understand how to have fun, you know.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Suddenly
